The air that inhabits you
by Nova802
Summary: Puck and Rachel slowly find that they have become necessary to each other. Set post Sectionals. Now with an epilogue from Rachel's POV.
1. not very good friends

**A/N: Feeling very inspired from "Sectionals" so, I'm back with another poetry inspired Puck and Rachel fic. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading and reviewing. **

**Sadly, I don't own Glee, but if I did the "look" would be on constant replay...**

*********

_I would like to be the air  
that inhabits you for a moment  
only. I would like to be that unnoticed  
& that necessary._

**From**_** Variations on the Word Sleep**_, by Margaret Atwood

*****

Puck sits on the practice room floor, holding his head in his hands. Shit, his face hurts. Who knew Finn could hit so fucking hard? He's an asshole, but he feels a little grim satisfaction at the thought that Finn's hand is probably killing him right now. The room is empty--no more shouting, no more tears, no more disgusted glances. Just quiet. It's finally happened and now he's so close to getting everything he wants, right? So what the fuck is he still doing here?

After Finn's big storm out (had he been taking lessons from Berry?) the room is frozen for a moment. He's focused on Quinn, watching her watch Finn walk away, her hands clapped over her mouth, trying to hold in her sobs. Finally the silence is broken by Brittany, who shockingly, has her mind on the essentials. "Uhhh, Quinn. You should probably stay at my house for a few days. I don't think staying at Finn's house is going work very well right now." Good. Baby Puckerman won't be sleeping on the streets anyway. Brittany grabs Quinn's hands, murmuring something about sitting down while she finds her keys and Mike says that he'll help Brittany find them because otherwise it could take a while. Schue and Pillsbury go to find Finn. Santana shrugs and Matt glares at him and they leave too and he supposes at some point the rest of the Gleeks go too, since here he is, alone.

He's been preparing for this _exact _moment even since Finn told him Quinn was pregnant. Or maybe since he'd had that moment of clarity (the one that goes: _hey dumbshit, what the hell do you think you're doing_?) while he's between Quinn's thighs, and she's calling out his name. Or even further back, when Quinn's giving him these looks that he finds pretty easy to identify and he wonders why he doesn't look away.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn't hear anything until she's close, actually entering his peripheral vision. He recognizes those legs, so he doesn't even bother looking up at her face. God, the last thing he fucking needs is her laying into him about Finn right now. Or maybe she just wants the practice room to sing some stupid song about heartbreak. Fuck her. He just needs a few more minutes to figure out his next move, so he says the first thing he can think of to get her to leave.

"Shit Berry, I thought you'd have those legs wrapped around Hudson by now." That'll have her flouncing off in a huff.

It doesn't. She takes a step closer. "That's odd, Puck. Usually being unpleasant comes so naturally to you. If you don't mind me saying so, that sounded a little forced."

"I do mind you saying so," he says curtly, "what the fuck do you want, Berry?"

She drops an icepack by his feet and sits down next to him, but not too close. She's smoothing her skirt down which he knows is one of her nervous habits (and he's pretty annoyed with himself for knowing it). Oh, shit. She's about to open her mouth and he _so_ knows what's coming. Best Friend...betrayal...how could you...poor Finn. Hell, he should save her the time--it's nothing he hasn't said to himself once or twice.

"I just wanted you to know that I...I didn't realize it would happen like this. I'm _really_ sorry you got hurt when Finn punched you so many times and I blame myself a little. Although of course it is more your fault than mine."

He rolls his eyes at this, but grabs the icepack, which apparently she takes as a sign that he wants her to continue. "Maybe I could have broken it to him in a different way. I've been told that I lack tact. I just didn't want to see Finn hurt any more."

Does she even listen to herself? If the situation wasn't so fucked up he'd be laughing his ass off right now. "Berry, you are wrong on so many levels. First of all, I'm not hurt. Hudson punches like a girl." She looks pointedly at the icepack he's holding on his cheekbone, but he ignores her. "Secondly, you didn't tell because you wanted to _help_ him. You did it because you _want_ him."

He doesn't say it unkindly, but he can see the effects of his words spreading over her face. She looks like she's about to cry. You've got to be kidding, she's just figuring it out now? And people say she's the smart one. "Look, don't worry," he says awkwardly, "if you hadn't have told him, someone else would have." Now she looks shocked. Shit, she's frighteningly naive sometimes. He continues, "Did anyone look very surprised to you? I'd guess they all knew. You're going to catch some shit for letting the cat out of the bag before sectionals."

"Oh...sectionals." she sighs, then shakes her head. "Never mind. You're right, of course. I really am a terrible person."

"Shut up, Berry and stop being a drama queen. Like I said, bound to happen. Hell, you've done me a favor. It's all better out in the open." He frowns off into space. She puts her hand on his arm and he looks at it, but doesn't shrug it off.

"Do you think things will work out with Quinn?" she asks, her voice soft.

His stomach clenches. "God, something's going to have to. We're having a baby together and I'm not walking away from that." Fuck, he sounds like an idiot. And why the hell is he even talking to her about this? She's just this annoying diva who's never given two shits about him. (A memory, the look on her face when he appears in the doorway after choosing her over football, floats through his brain, but he shrugs it off with irritation.) "All right, you've done your charity work for the day. So why don't you go find Finn and knock boots, or sing a song or whatever?" he mutters.

Her hand falls from his arm. "I really should go apologize to Quinn." She stands up, heads for the door and then pauses and looks back at him with her hand still on the handle. Crap. He recognizes that look. It's the look she gets when she is crazy determined about something. She takes a deep breath and says in a rush, "Puck, I know that we've had a _colorful_ past few months. I mean first you were throwing slushies at me and then you joined Glee and I began see how talented you were. And of course there was the kissing which was awkward because we both liked other people but still kind of hot..."

Puck's brain is spinning from the effort it takes to translate her babble into actual intelligible English. Wait. Did she say she thinks he's talented? And that kissing him was hot? Actually, that one's a no-brainer...

"...and I know when we broke up, you said that we couldn't be friends, had never been friends, but I can't help thinking that even though our situation, especially in respect to Finn and Quinn and your unborn child, is fraught with difficulty that we actually could. Be friends I mean." She looks at him a little hopefully, but he's still staring blankly at her, trying to figure out just what the hell she's saying. The silence obviously goes on a little too long because she looks away and says, "well, okay, goodbye." and she's out the door.

And he must be in desperate need of a distraction because he finds himself thinking about it--being friends with Berry. She's ambitious, determined and stubborn as fuck and the best thing he knows about her is that her skirts are criminally short. Fuck. She's also the only one who bothered to show up with an ice pack. No way, not in a million years.

But when he sees Rachel in the hallway, on his way to lay it on the line for Quinn, he takes one look at her and realizes it's a done deal. If there's someone up there running things, he or she is apparently asleep at the switch (or laughing at him) because he knows it and he can see that she knows it. There's some kind of freaky link between the two of them. When the **hell** did that happen?

Still, he comforts himself, they probably aren't very good friends.


	2. Competitive Drive

**A/N: I must admit, I don't love the way the rest of Glee treats Rachel sometimes...**

**Thanks for the reviews and alerts and favorites!**

*****

"Mr. Schue, I think you should reconsider. That song is really more suited to Mercedes' voice and Rachel already had the solo at sectionals."

Rachel sits up a little straighter. Kurt's tone is bored, but possibly faintly malicious also--she doesn't read him at all well, witness the Finn makeover debacle. Mercedes has her arms crossed over her chest and is staring challengingly at Mr. Schue. This is easier to understand: Mercedes wants the song. There's something familiar about this...that's right! Hasn't she_ already_ given up a solo _once? _Note to self: does it count as selfless if she ended up getting it anyway?

"Well," says Mr. Schue, "you make a good argument, Kurt. I suppose we could have another diva-off."

The background chatter subsides and she can feel everyone staring at her, waiting for her response. Rachel inhales, opens her mouth to...do what? Scream? Call out Kurt on his _obvious_ pro-Mercedes, anti-Rachel bias? Inform Mr. Schue that he is on the verge of _destroying_ her career and possibly her life _again_? Puck catches her eye. He's leaning back in his chair, smirking. He is so obviously waiting for the fireworks that her mouth snaps shut. Clearly, he--and by extension everyone else--is waiting for her to diva-out. She scans the room quickly, trying to assess her chances.

If it comes down to another vote, she can probably count on the support of Finn, currently staring off into space in the corner. Would Puck vote for her? They are sort of friends although as far as she can tell, it's just what they _are_, not what they _do_. Perhaps it is time for a tactical retreat. Keep them guessing. Is it _wrong_ that Glee is the teeniest tiniest bit like war?

She takes a deep breath, pastes a smile on her face--she knows it's a little pained, but honestly, no one is that good of an actress--and says, "No need Mr. Schue. Mercedes will do an..." (_competent_) "excellent job with the song." The tiny pause is hardly noticeable she thinks.

Mr. Schue beams, "Way to come together as a team guys! All right, since that's settled, I'll see you guys on Thursday." Oblivious as always. It would surprise her, but after all this is the teacher who never managed to put dumpster and football team and Kurt together in a meaningful context.

She hangs back as Finn and Quinn rush out the door and head in opposite directions. Puck leaves after them, without talking to anyone. The rest of her fellow Glee members leave more leisurely, talking and laughing on their way out (Mercedes and Kurt are are arm-in-arm of course). Alone in the practice room, Rachel sits at the piano and is picking out the opening piano part of 'Somebody to Love.'

She jumps when a familiar voice rumbles, "Awww, disappointing. I was looking forward to watching you throw a hissy-fit. Developing some social manners?"

She looks at him sourly, "No, I just think 'what would Puck say in this situation' and then I don't. What are you doing back here anyway?"

He nods to his seat, "Forgot my Chem book."

She rolls her eyes, "Of course, you need it for your _homework_...."

He grins. "Still pissed, huh?"

"If you mean do I still harbor resentment at yet another slight on my musical ability, based not on a impartial judgement on respective _vocal merits_, but solely on _popularity_..." She stares down at her fingers on the piano keys, blinking back tears for just a moment. She sneaks a look at him--he's looking at her with a little frown. _Pull yourself together Rachel!_ She starts playing again. "Well thanks for...," she's not sure what, but she nods vaguely at him, expecting him to get his book and go. Instead he takes a seat on the piano bench next to her. Which, since their "moment" (she doesn't really know how else to describe it) a few weeks ago in no way makes her feel uncomfortable or annoyed. Or anything else.

"Look, Berry, you know what your problem is?" he says, and his tone is so much the tone of someone taking the trouble to be calm and reasonable that her palm itches to slap him.

"Do tell," she coos insincerely.

"You're too competitive."

She laughs, "Oh please, you're one to talk! You are_ exactly_ the same!"

He snorts. "I don't give a flying fuck who sings what song."

"Maybe not, but I'd wager you wouldn't be pleased if Coach Tanaka gave Matt or Mike your position."

"Like that would ever happen, " he growls.

"In addition," she continues, "I'm not competitive. I'm just used to being the best. I've worked very hard over many years honing my skills. If I were participating in another arena where I lacked expertise, I would naturally accept..."

"Yeah, yeah Berry. We'll see about that. When is daddy coming to pick you up?"

"5:00, but I'm planning on using the time to complete my homework."

He picks up his book and her bag. "It'll keep. Come on, let's go," he says and starts for the door.

She looks at him warily, but follows. "Where are we going?"

"My house. We're going to test out exactly how competitive you are."

Which is how she finds herself on Puck's living room floor, playing some ridiculous racing game on his X-Box. On arriving he disappears into the kitchen, popping his head out to offer her beef jerky and beer. She gives him a scathing look and he raises one eyebrow and says something about her needing to get the full experience, but brings out oreos and two glasses of milk instead. He explains the game and controls to her (mostly with his mouth full of oreos. Boys. Ugh.)

The game is actually kind of fun once she works out the basics and then he picks up his controller and starts racing against her. He beats her the first three times and has the audacity to laugh at her, so she punches his arm. It hurts a lot and she shakes her hand out which makes him laugh even harder. For a minute she thinks he's going to snort milk out his nose (again, ugh).

"Not competitive, huh Berry?" he chokes out finally.

"Shut up and hit restart, " she snarls.

Three hours later, it's getting dark and she's had to call her dad to tell him that she's getting a ride but **finally **she beats him. She dances around the room, cheering. "Hah! Take that! I'm an amazing driver! I wish my dads were here to see that--no more driving lessons until I turn eighteen, my foot!" She looks down at him, still sprawled out on the floor with his head craned...

"Noah Puckerman! Are you looking up my skirt?"

He looks at her with a 'no-duh' expression in his eyes, "Hell yeah! I mean, I've got a pulse and that skirt is awfully short." He leers at her amiably.

She blushes and glares because it's so horrifying to be objectified like that. Mostly.

"Geez Berry, you've got a lot to learn about teenage boys." He pushes himself up and brings the glasses and plate into the kitchen. "Come on, get your stuff, " he calls out, "I've got to get you out of here before my mom comes home."

She's confused. She knows that he wouldn't want to chance his reputation by claiming a friendship with her within the walls of McKinley, but why wouldn't he want her to meet his mother? Parents love her. He must have noticed her expression because as he grabs his coat and keys he says, "Look, no offense but you are never going to meet my mother."

"Why in the world not?"

"Because it she ever meets you and finds out I dumped a nice Jewish girl, she will **kill** me."

"Uhmm, Puck. You do remember that I'm the one who dumped you, don't you?"

He drapes a casual arm over her shoulder as he guides her out the door. "Yeah Berry, you keep telling yourself that..."

It's a good thing they're friends, because otherwise, she'd kind of kill him.


	3. Lessons from an Expert

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or the world, but if I did, Lea, Jane, and Matthew (plus Glee!) would all win Golden Globes!**

*********

Because really, how hard could it be? Berry probably has the driver's education manual memorized. She'll have a checklist. Number one: fasten seat belt, number two: adjust mirrors, number three: play show tunes. God, he hopes that last one isn't true. There's no question in his mind that she's going to regard the speed limit as an actual limit rather than a suggestion. She'll squeak a lot and grip the steering wheel too hard and he'll have to use his calming voice, like when his idiot kid sister locks herself into the bathroom by accident. They'll drive around the block a few times to give her a little confidence, he'll teach her how to parallel park and she'll be able to get her licence like a normal American kid (hey, first time for everything, right?). This will take two or three hours at most. Easy.

How: in the bag.

Why: a little more complicated.

It's screwed up, no question. The only upside of the whole 'Finn finds out what a fucking asshole his best friend is' thing was that now he is supposed to get to be a dad to his kid. And he kind of is: Quinn let him go to her last doctor's appointment and he got to hear the heartbeat (his own almost stopped) and apparently he's now the one who's on cravings duty. Is it crappy to think Finn probably doesn't miss that? Thank god Dairy Queen has a late night window.

And somehow, without even realizing it, he and Quinn are in this crazy non-relationship. Quinn wants to do the pregnancy thing on her own? _As if_. Quinn Fabray hasn't been without a boyfriend for as much as a single minute since she was thirteen, so he's not surprised when she starts calling him a few weeks after the big reveal. He doesn't waste too much time thinking about where that puts him on her list of choices--it's a non-issue, because she's not exactly at the top of his list either.

The worst part is that even after proving to Quinn that they could totally rock parenthood (okay, sexting = bad, but shouldn't he get some kind of points for multi-tasking?) she still wants to give the baby up for adoption. Nothing he says or does seems to change her mind. She wants her life back. Unsaid is 'without you', but Puck guesses it's there. There's one thing for sure, he and Quinn aren't likely to cut it for the long haul. But he loves this kid already and more than anything he doesn't want to be like his asshole father. On the other hand, himself, a single dad at seventeen? Shit, he can't even keep a goldfish alive.

It keeps circling around and around in his head--he's on auto-pilot most of the day, and he sure as hell isn't sleeping nights. And it's not exactly like he's got people lining up to help him think through the options. His mother tears up whenever she sees him, it's a good day if Finn doesn't look like he wants to throw another few punches at him, and Mike and Matt--forget it--they'd throw him into the dumpster if he ever starting talking about his feelings. (To be fair, he'd do the same to them.)

Although he never would have predicted it of an activity that puts him in the same room as his ex-best friend and his baby mama, Glee is kind of an escape. The Gleeks don't give him much shit and it kind of cracks him up watching Rachel get her crazy on. Tonight, they're giving a concert to raise money for the trip to regionals. The auditorium is packed and not that he'll admit it, but it's kind of exciting to see this kind of crowd. His mom and sister are there, sitting towards the back. With a painful thud in his heart he sees Mrs. Hudson, middle left. And right there in the front row sits Rachel's parents. Now this is no surprise, they've been at every event _ever_ and pretty much everyone just looks on it as one more thing to give Rachel crap for: her two gay daddies. He feels a momentary pang of remorse--shit, he doesn't have one father worth caring about much less two.

And then, as he's watching them watching her, it finally occurs to him; you fucking idiot, those two didn't find her under a cabbage leaf. He's never spent a single second thinking about the hows and whys of that particular family unit, but unless they really did clone her from that Menzel woman Rachel is obsessed with, there's a mama somewhere in the mix. And he's even kind of friends with Berry, if by friends you mean very occasionally hanging out with an insane midget he feels comfortable laughing with. Who also happens to have a mouth he knows intimately and a great ass. But whatever. The point is that he could probably talk to her about all this. Unfortunately, it's not like he can lead in with 'so Berry, since your mom ditched you, any lingering feeling of abandonment you want to discuss?' This is going to take a little finesse.

*****

"Hey, Berry. Hang back a sec." He approaches her a few days later as Schuester dismisses Glee.

She looks at him curiously, which is nothing to the look that Kurt gives him as he walks out the door. Nosy little Gleek.

"What is it, Puck?"

"I'm getting sick of seeing your cold ass sitting on the bench outside after practice. When are you going to get your license and start driving?"

She wrinkles her nose. "I actually have my permit, but my fathers have sadly called a hiatus to our lessons."

Which he totally remembers from their gaming session a few weeks ago. Finesse remember? For someone so yappy, she is surprisingly difficult to tune out. He chalks it up to being afraid of what he might agree to while he's zoned out.

"I could teach you," he offers. Shit, this is awkward. What if she asks why?

"Why?" she asks suspiciously, but before he has time to do more than let his jaw hang down, she continues. "Never mind. I don't care. I gratefully accept your offer because I am actually desperate to learn to drive. I'm sure you'll be an excellent instructor. Obviously I've only driven with you a few times, but I didn't notice any perceptible moving violations."

He spends the next few (critical as it turned out) moments coming up with innuendos involving 'driving with you' and 'moving violations' and fuck if he isn't right about the dangers of zoning out because he hears his own voice agreeing to meet her in the parking lot tomorrow after football practice. That'll be fun explaining to Finn. Or it would be if they were speaking.

So, the driving lesson. It's both terrifying and hysterically funny at the same time. Funny: even with the seat moved up, he's surprised that she can see over the steering wheel and reach the pedals at the same time. It's actually pretty fucking cute. He's all ready to go over the important safety features, blah, blah, blah when she whips out of the parking space and he's in for the second biggest shock of his life (hey, nothing's going to top 'Quinn's pregnant'). Rachel Berry quite literally is hell on wheels. She doesn't check the mirrors, she drives way too fast and he wasn't even right about the show tunes. Instead he's treated to her stream-of-consciousness while he white-knuckles the passenger door and stomps on a non-existent brake pedal. No shit idiot, maybe you shouldn't have given her the first lesson on your X-Box.

"Berry," he says carefully and she turns to him, smiling happily. "Eyes on the road!" Her eyes snap forward and she veers between the lines again. "Okay," he starts again between clenched teeth, "See that diner on the right? Pull in there. Braking! Turn signal!"

She pulls into a parking spot, his bumper inches from the tail hitch of the car in front. He leans over, makes sure the truck is in park and takes the keys. She's looking at him so hopefully that he knows what he should do, what Finn probably would do: tell her that she's doing a great job and just needs a _little_ more practice.

"Fuck Berry, that was fucking horrifying. How many lessons did your fathers manage to make it through?"

"Two," she says sheepishly.

"I'm amazed they lasted so long," he rolls his eyes at her and gestures to the diner. "Let's go in. There is no way in hell this truck is moving again unless I eat a huge amount of pie first."

The talking part is actually kind of easy. He doesn't have to introduce any topics because she has this need to fill empty air with noise. So they get through Quinn, (yeah, she's living with Pillsbury now, we sorta are and yes, the hormones really are hellacious) and touch on Finn (I am NOT a rebound) and the conversation sort of naturally goes to the future.

"So Quinn still wants to give the baby up for adoption," he mumbles, stuffing another big bite of pie in.

She looks at him consideringly. "So that's it. I was wondering what your motivation was. Actually, this is much preferable to my first hypothesis, that you trying to get some sort of revenge because of my racing victory..."

"No, wait. What? By the way, I totally _let_ you win."

She ignores this and says briskly but not unkindly, "Cut the crap, Puck. You've finally figured out that I'm the only person you know whose arrival was a little, uhhmm, _unconventional_ and you want to get my perspective. It actually makes a lot of sense."

"Try not to sound so surprised," he grumbles looking down at the table.

She snorts. "My situation is a little different because one of my dads is my biological father. My biological mother lives in San Francisco. I see her once a year and we email and my dads send her pictures." She hesitates and he looks up at her, but now she's looking down at her hands shredding a paper napkin. "I don't want to lie to you, it's not really like she's my mom. I mean, my dads are my parents and I wouldn't change that for the world. But...it's nice knowing her. I look _so_ much like her, and she _sings_, even though it's with a new age folk group which is a little embarrassing. So if you're thinking about adoption, I would recommend an open adoption."

"There are different kinds?" he says incredulously. Damn, now she's going to think he's stupid. But she doesn't seem to, only says mildly, "I could help you research it, if you wanted."

He shrugs. "That would be cool."

The silence stretches between them, but it's not an uncomfortable one.

Finally, he throws a few bills on the table, sighs and hands her the keys. "Shit, this is going to take a lot longer than I thought."

She bites her bottom lip, looking surprised. "You mean, you're still going to teach me?"

It's kind of a shock to him as well. "Yeah, but don't even think about turning the key until I've explained a few things. Like mirrors for example. And for fuck's sake Berry, the speed limit is there for a reason. You think I want to bail your crazy ass out of jail?"

"Thanks, Puck," she says and reaches out to squeeze his hand for a second. It tingles. In a friendly way.


	4. Understanding the Rules

**A/N: Thanks again for the alerts, reviews and favorites. They are much appreciated!**

*****

**"**If two drivers enter an intersection from opposite directions at the same time, one going straight, the other turning left, which must yield the right-of-way?"

Rachel sighs. "The one turning left. Have you even tried speaking to Finn this week?"

Puck scowls. "I like my face the way it is. What do flashing red lights on a school bus mean?"

"Stop at least 20 feet away from the bus. Don't start again until the red lights stop flashing. He was your best friend for ten years, Puck. I know that you want that back, but it's not going to happen by itself."

"Newsflash Berry: I fucked up. Is it always safe to drive at the posted speed?"

"No. The driver must adjust his or her speed based on the conditions of the road. You made a mistake. A really big mistake, but I think that Finn is a big enough man to understand that and forgive you." Oops. Puck is really glaring at her now and he's muttering something like 'saint fucking Finn' under his breath.

She pushes his plate towards him. "Finish your pancakes. It's important to start the day with a good breakfast." She waits until his mouth is full and starts again. "What you and Finn need is an activity that you can bond over. Something where you don't have to talk too much. It's too bad football is over for the season, because that would have been perfect. Glee doesn't really work because it's probably too much to expect for Finn to ignore the fact that you and Quinn are dating." She starts fishing in her handbag for some change to leave for Debbie, their waitress.

He takes a last gulp of his orange juice. "Were dating. I mean, I'm still there for her and the baby, but Quinn and I? Definitely over."

His tone is casual, but she looks doubtfully up at him. "Oh. Do you...want to talk about it?" A really good friend would undoubtedly give him the opportunity to cry on her shoulder but for some reason all she can think is 'please say no, please say no'.

"God no. As a matter of fact, if you promise never to mention it again I'll let you drive." He slides out of the booth, dangles the keys over her head.

Her eyes light up. "Can I choose the music?" He groans and nods. He'll complain about her selection and laugh at her when she sings along and remind her to make sure that she comes to a complete stop (if I open the door, I _shouldn't_ see the road moving, Berry) at each stop sign. Then they'll arrive at school and go their separate ways. That and breakfast at the diner two mornings a week. It's been their odd little pattern for the last few weeks of their driving lessons, but it's almost over; she's taking her test on Saturday.

That morning though, the pattern breaks unexpectedly. She's in the practice room before the first bell running through her scales when Puck storms in.

"Where's your phone Rachel?" he asks angrily.

_Rachel?_ She looks at him stupidly for a second, her hand going to her bag.

"Never mind," he scowls holding it up, "I've got it right here. You left it in my truck. I was bringing it to you when you got a new text."

Rachel winces and opens her mouth, but Puck is still going, his voice rising. "Someone sent you a fucking filthy message! And that's not the only one by a long shot. I checked your inbox. This has been going on for months! Is it that little fucker Jacob? Because I don't care if he _was_ in Glee for about two seconds, I'll still kill him!"

"It's not Jacob. Please...it's not a big deal," Rachel says weakly.

Puck takes another step towards her and growls. "Not a big deal? This...this anonymous prick is fucking stalking you with some seriously twisted shit and it's no big deal? Are you delusional?" Another step closer until they're almost nose to nose.

Seriously? Is he _actually_ blaming her? She crosses her arms over her chest, sticks up her chin and glares up at him.

"I've got it all under control, Puck," she says coldly.

"You do? Because it sure as hell doesn't look like it. I **checked** the dates Rachel! You've gotten at least two texts a week since September **except** the week we dated. So this fucker obviously knows who I am. I'm not just some asshole who slushied you, I'm your fucking friend! So why the **fuck** didn't you tell me?"

"It's a _school_ thing, Puck," she says angrily.

"What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?"

"Really? **Really?**" She's almost shrieking. "**Why** do you think we parked in the furthest corner of the parking lot this morning? Why did **you** go in the side entrance, while **I** went in the front? We've had **breakfast** together seven times in the last three weeks, so why haven't we eaten a single lunch together in that same time?"

It's his turn to stare stupidly at her and she pokes a finger in his chest, hating him for making her say it. "We're friends, Puck, but not where anyone at McKinley could see, so don't play stupid and pretend you don't know the rules as well as I do!"

"That is such bullshit," His voice is quieter but angrier. "You talk about me. What about you? Are you sitting next to me in Glee, Rachel, where all the Gleeks could see? Where _Finn_ could see?"

The breath comes out of Rachel with a _whoosh_ and suddenly she feels the anger draining out of her too. She sits bonelessly in a chair. After a moment, he sits next to her and she can feel the warmth of him from knee to shoulder, their bodies almost touching, but not quite.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, looking down at her hands lying twisted in her lap. "You're not just some asshole who slushied me, Noah." Something in her head whispers y_ou're the boy who sang to me, the boy who quit football for me, the boy who taught me how to drive, _but she pushes it down. He puts his hand on her shoulder and she feels it tighten and release and then he walks out the door. When she looks, she sees her phone lying on the seat he had occupied.

That day, at lunch, he sits at her table. He nods to her, slides in between Mercedes and Artie and spends the entire time talking to Artie about guitar riffs. When he gets up to clear his tray, he catches her eye and nods again. She smiles a little.

Naturally, she's the first to arrive at Glee. Instead of her usual seat (front and center) she moves one row back and to the left a little. He's just going to have to compromise a little, because she wouldn't sit all the way in the back row if Taye Diggs came and begged her to. He's the next one to arrive and as she looks at the seat next to her hopefully, his mouth quirks up in a little smile and he flops down. "Couldn't quite do it, huh?"

She smiles widely and everything is back to normal, but not quite, because he looks at her seriously and says in a low tone, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted, but I'm not letting this go. Who is it?"

She tries to put him off. "Really, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think that violence is going to solve anything."

He looks over her shoulder, mutters "sorry" (again!) and heads to the doorway where Kurt and Finn have just arrived. For a second, she thinks that he is taking her advice and talking to Finn, but it's Kurt he pulls aside and she gasps and rushes over, only to hear, "...any idea who would be responsible for that, Hummel?" Kurt shakes his head slowly, but Finn who is still hovering on the edge of the conversation looks at her as she comes up and says, "Rach, this isn't the same guy who tripped you in the hallway, is it? Because you told me that was an accident!"

Whoops. She had forgotten that Finn knew about that.

Finn takes her silence as an admission and his face hardens a little and his hands ball up into fists. He dumps his backpack and walks straight out the door. Her mind is racing and all of a sudden she has an absolutely brilliantly **awful** idea. Sometimes she even amazes herself. She grabs Puck's arm and hisses up at him, "Go with him! Finn knows the guy. Have fun!"

His eyes flash and for a second she thinks he's going to smile. "Let me get this straight. You want me to bond with Finn over beating the crap out of your stalker?"

Oh, that sounds terrible. But technically accurate. "Try not to get suspended," she temporizes, pushing him out the door.

Now he really is smiling. "Hey, Hudson! Wait up!" he calls, before jogging down the hall.

Sure, she feels a little guilty about betraying her ideals, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made in an important cause. It's just her good luck that the sacrifice today happens to be Scott Reynold's face.

Twenty minutes later, the two of them walk back into Glee. They aren't talking or smiling, but they do walk in shoulder to shoulder and Rachel figures that it's a beginning.

When he reclaims his seat, she glances sideways at him and says under her breath, "how did it go?"

"You want details?"

She makes a face. "Not really, I suppose. But you and Finn?"

"You never give up do you?" She can't quite identify the tone, but at least she can tell that it isn't annoyance.

"No," she says simply.

He leans back in his chair and says carelessly, "Yeah well, just so you know, that isn't exactly your worst quality."

She decides to take that as a compliment.


	5. Waking Up

**A/N: Because in my opinion, Puck wouldn't recognize love if it bit him in the ass.**

*****

The alarm goes off at 4:00 a.m. and Puck groans, but rolls out of bed and gets dressed in the dark, shivering a little as he drags a sweatshirt over his head. He walks quietly past the bedrooms where his mother and sister sleep, grabs a packet of pop tarts from the kitchen and heads outside. The early spring snowstorm has dumped about six or seven inches overnight and the last flakes are still gently falling. He grabs the shovel from the porch and carefully clears the steps then shovels a path to his truck. Starting with his own driveway he lowers the blade of the plow attached to his front bumper, scrapes the snow neatly into a pile, reverses, repeats. He drives carefully through the almost empty streets, stopping off at the homes of his clients to clear their snow away. What had been awkwardly learned in the parking lot of Hummel's garage at the beginning of the winter is routine now and he's fast and careful.

There's no question that the early start every time it snows seriously sucks ass, but Hummel's dad was able to hook him up with a cheap second-hand plow, maybe because of football or Glee, or maybe because Hummel's trips to the dumpster have ceased. And he figures that it's kind of a natural extension of his pool business--only with more actual business and way fewer cougars. He tells himself that he's just doing it to keep himself in beer and dip and to pay off Quinn's medical bills, but truthfully, he likes the concentration it takes, the precision. It kind of takes his mind off things.

He swings by Finn's house because it'll only take five minutes and will save Finn a lot of shovelling. (She doesn't come up will _all_ the great ideas.) Finn comes out of the house, approaches the truck and Puck rolls down his window.

"Hey thanks man. You want to come in and get something hot to drink?"

Puck shrugs. "Can't, I've got a few more driveways to do." (Actually, just one.)

"Alright." Finn pauses. "How about coming over this weekend and playing Call of Duty?"

"Yeah, okay." So that's another step. He waves and reverses out.

He always saves Rachel's house for last, which annoys Michael (Dad, not Daddy) slightly because he likes to get an early start for work. Yep. There he is in the doorway, waiting as Puck finishes and then giving him a wave as he hurries to his car. Rachel appears in the doorway next, holding up two fingers, which means ten minutes anyway, but he decides not to go in--if he does, ten minutes will probably be twenty since she has this strange belief that "pop tarts don't constitute a healthy breakfast" or some shit like that.

Finally, she opens the passenger door and slides in and he eyes her sideways, inwardly sighing. Jeans. Dude, he is so _over_ winter. But it does make it easier to stick to his resolutions. She hands him a travel mug of coffee, and he grunts his thanks. She's turning the dial on the radio and chatting brightly and he doesn't really listen, just lets it wash over him. At first it drove him crazy, but now he kind of misses it on the days she drives herself in.

He's started to develop a sense of when he should start paying attention again (simple self-preservation), so he tunes in to hear, "...really don't _need_ to give me a ride every time it snows."

Oh hell, no. "Forget it. I invested way too much time getting you your license to see you end up buried in a snowbank. Besides, I'm already at your house so..." She's looks pleased, so he lets it drop.

When they get to school, he walks with her towards the front entrance (who knew that using separate entrances was such a sore point? She needs to _tell_ him these things.) and she taps him on the arm and points towards the faculty parking lot, where Ms. Pillsbury is leveraging a very pregnant Quinn out of the passenger's seat of her car. "You should go help her. It's still kind of slippery." He nods and asks, "Are we still on for third period? Library? Quinn gave me a few new ones."

She teases, "The library? You mean the place with the books?"

He gives her a dirty look (although he's pretty sure she stopped buying it weeks ago). "Funny."

"See you then," she smiles.

*****

Like _every_ other fucking thing he and Rachel do, he's not entirely sure exactly how this began. Quinn had cornered him again to talk about adoption and after his talk with Rachel he had grudgingly agreed to _think_ about it and then before he knows it, she's pressed a manila envelope with all these files in his hands. A half dozen potential parents for his kid: personal statements and educational background and pictures of the perfect backyard with the stupid tire swing and who knows, even the fucking pony _they_ are going to buy_ his_ little girl. And he doesn't know what the hell to do with them, so he dumps them in his locker tucked behind his algebra book which is basically like the back of beyond and then starts snarling at everyone.

Rachel puts up with this for three days until he almost makes Brittany cry at practice. In his defense, who the hell thinks that Canada is the 49th state? And what do the Mounties have to do with choreography, anyway? But he's sorry almost immediately because, well...she's Brittany. Unfortunately Mike looks about ready to demolish him and Santana actually growls when Rachel's voice rings out, "I've got this one!" and she's looking murderous as she drags him out into the hallway. The last thing he hears is Mercedes snickering, "Girl is gonna teach Mohawk boy some_ manners_!"

So he's standing in the hall glaring down, waiting for her to bitch him out but instead she just looks at him until his eyes drop. "What?" she says and he still hears a hint of irritation in her voice, but it's softened. "What is it?" she continues, "because honestly, if this nonsense doesn't stop, so help me, I'm going to let the rest of Gleeks loose on you." Clearly, she thinks that is going to terrify him. (It does a little, but he'll never admit it.)

He can't say anything, so he just grabs her by the wrist (later he worries about how hard he was gripping her) and pulls her to his locker. He shoves the envelope into her hand and she hesitantly opens it. "Oh," she says and that's all. He thinks he'll never figure her out, because just when he thinks she's going to go all verbal on him and start saying stuff like 'procrastination' and 'decision making process', and 'rationally speaking', she just looks at him and again, he can't hold her gaze.

"Let's go," she says evenly.

He looks at her like she's grown another head. "There's still forty-five minutes of practice left."

She shrugs. "They can do it without me for once."

"What do you want?," she asks him later, after he's had something to eat and they're sitting in the booth that he's come to think of as theirs. "Not Quinn, not your mom, _you_. What do _you_ want, Noah?"

He stares out the window and he's kind of freaked out because she's the first person (including himself) to ask that question.

"I want her to know that I love her," he says quietly. He reaches out, fingers the manila envelope lying untouched on the table between them. "I want her to have a good life."

And the sky doesn't come crashing down when he's said it, so after a while he asks if she'll go through the files with him and she does. When he rejects all of them as unworthy, she doesn't say a word. But Quinn has another one, and then two more and then a few more after that and he asks her again. Which is why Rachel spends third period with him in the library helping him sort through the _only_ important decision he's _ever _fucking made.

*****

Today he's early. He leans back and makes himself as comfortable as he can on the hard plastic seats. Shit, he's so tired that he figures he'll just close his eyes for few minutes and he must have fallen asleep a little because, _bam_, he's flashing back to that dream he has where she appears through his bedroom window. Fuck, it had been bad enough when she was still wearing clothes in it. Stupid dream. Not that it matters. He might spend a disturbing proportion of his rem sleep making her scream his name, but in real life, there is _no_ fucking way. Rachel Berry is the Queen of Glee and _everyone_ is holding their breath waiting for Finn to wake the fuck up and take his place by her side.

Everyone but Rachel, that is. For someone who spent most of the fall chasing Finn through the hallways, she's a real cool customer now. He'd asked her about it, once or twice, early on and she'd calmly said stuff about _timing_ and not being a _rebound_.

He hasn't asked in a while.

The essential thing is that Puck is **not** going to screw this up, so he's going to ignore the little voice that's screaming in his head _'it could be you, asshole.'_

He has always, his entire life, just acted first and thought second, if at all. His current situation is ample proof of that. But Rachel? Kill him now, but he actually wants to talk to her, so as far as he's concerned that puts her so much in the _friend_ category (and as this point, its still a pretty empty field) that he might as well be mentally dressing her for fuck's sake.

Right?

*****

**A/N: Happy Holidays to everyone celebrating! I hope to have a new chapter out by the New Year...**


	6. Just Talk

**A/N: I don't own Glee. Thanks again to everyone for the reviews and alerts and favorites! You really make my day...**

*****

His mother is wondering. Yes, she's finally met his mother, after Mrs. Puckerman had threatened to activate the GPS device on his phone in order to find out where he was spending so much time. They have dinner together and Rachel goes out of her way to be _really especially charming_ and can't help smirking a little at the surly expression on his face.

"You do know that she's about one step away from asking you to call her 'mom', right?" he asks sourly, walking her out to her car.

"You're just lucky I didn't tell her how devastated I was when _you_ broke up with _me_," she replies sweetly and skips a few steps ahead of him to escape retaliation. He just laughs.

Her fathers are wondering. They don't begrudge the increased grocery bills, they accept her characterization of their relationship as friendship at face value, but they pop in a lot when the two of them are watching movies in the den and suggest that it would be more comfortable for them to study in the dining room rather than her bedroom. They create new rules about having friends over when they aren't home. It doesn't seem occur to them that she files the constant breaking of those rules under 'what they don't know won't hurt them'.

Or maybe it does occur to them, because one day she finds brochures on birth control on her desk and a box of condoms in her bathroom medicine cabinet. For about half a second she thinks about telling him, just like she tells him everything else, but whether his reaction is unholy amusement or horror, she isn't likely to be happy, so she bites her tongue.

No one at school wonders. It's become an accepted thing that two or three times a week, Puckerman eats lunch with the Gleeks, and sometimes he and Berry catch a ride together and besides, the two of them project such an aura of _'nothing to see here'_ that even the most ardent gossip hounds (read: Jacob) move on. What the Gleeks mostly see is her bullying him to do his homework and him making faces at her to get her to blow notes. Finn sometimes stares at her, but then he always has, so she's not concerned that he might misread the situation (she doesn't specify in her head what would constitute a misreading of the situation). Quinn sometimes stares at him, but as it doesn't seem to worry him, she doesn't let it worry her.

She doesn't wonder. Even as spring progresses and they are spending more and more time together either at her house or his. She still has lessons (vocal and modern dance) and he has pre-season baseball practice and he still goes to Quinn's doctor's appointments which are coming much more frequently now, but most days they squeeze in a little time together or at least a few texts.

They still like to have breakfast at the diner, so they find excuses to go (although _'the store was out of pop tarts'_ was a pretty suspect one). They talk (argue) about music a lot, because that's an easy topic for them both. He's always been a physical person, so it doesn't faze her (exactly) when he slings his arm around her shoulders or pops her feet up onto his lap when they're watching television. Once she fell asleep while watching Spinal Tap (which in her opinion was funnier the first time than the twentieth) and she woke up with her head pillowed on his leg and his fingers playing with her hair. When he noticed she was awake, he teased her for drooling on his knee.

She doesn't wonder about what's going on between the two of them because it's about more than the two of them. She feels it every time they talk (although he says nothing specifically about it), sees it every time they are together (although he always looks the same). Quinn's due date approaching fast and he...(although is pains her, she really can't say this any other way) he is _fucking_ freaking out.

They're together when he gets the call from Quinn on a Saturday afternoon. He's at her house pretending to watch some kind of sports news program (apparently just viewing sports isn't enough, you also need to talk about them) and she's watching him while pretending to do her homework. "Shit! She's a week early!" he says, running his hand nervously through his strip of hair. She doesn't bother reminding him that only about 5% of women actually deliver on their due date. (They'd read that together in the labor and delivery chapter of What to Expect When You're Expecting, a few weeks ago.)

"Is she at the hospital or on her way?" Rachel asks.

"On her way. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury are timing the contractions and they're still six or seven minutes apart."

"Are Mark and Sarah coming?" she asks carefully.

He nods.

She checks the time. Almost 3:00. "Okay, so you have a few minutes. Let me get you one or two things." She darts into the kitchen and throws a few snacks and some bottled water into a carrier bag. "You've got a change of clothes, right?" she throws back over her shoulder.

"Yeah, in the truck." He is at the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot. She hands him the bag, but he drops it to envelop her in a hug and she squeezes tightly for a moment, trying to tell him that she knows he can do it (which she _does_ know) and it'll be all right (she _hopes_ this will be the case). He presses a kiss to the top of her head and says quietly, "Thanks, Rach." Then he grabs the bag and she watches him drive off.

It wouldn't make any sense for her to go, even if he wanted her there for moral support. He's going to be busy (obviously) and really all she'd be doing is waiting, just like she's doing here, only seven miles closer. Quinn only tolerates her at best and that's only because Finn isn't in the picture. And besides, Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue will be there to help--that is, if he isn't busy peeling her off the floor. Emma Pillsbury may not have been the best choice for Quinn's Lamaze coach. So again, there is no earthly reason why she should be at the hospital right now, except for the fact that she badly wants to be.

*****

**4:00 P.M.**

"Noah! How's Quinn?"

"Good. We're all checked in. The OB is examining her now. Wait, here she comes. Can I call you back?"

"Of course."

**4:32 P.M.**

"She's at four centimeters."

"Excellent! Only six more to go!"

"Gotta go, Quinn needs ice chips."

**5:59 P.M.**

"How many?"

"Five and she's getting pretty pissy about it. She's demanding burritos."

"What does the doctor say?"

"That a little food will help keep her strength up."

"Noah."

"Yeah?"

"Get your ass down to the cafeteria and get her a burrito."

**6:12 P.M.**

"What do you think? Chicken, cheese or beef?"

"One of each. _Obviously_."

**7:46 P.M.**

"So what's the latest?"

"Six and a half. Still pretty slow going."

"Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"Sure. Quinn threw the beef burrito at my head, so I ate that."

"Noah!"

"Just kidding. I refused to eat it. Hospital burritos are disgusting. Actually I'm on my way to the cafeteria, now. Mark and Sarah are with her."

"How is that going?"

"It's okay...no, actually, it **sucks**. They don't say much, but the two of them look so fucking happy. And I get it, it's understandable because they're the ones taking her home, but you know?"

"I know."

**9:29 P.M.**

"We're at seven centimeters."

"Great! Remember Noah, Quinn's entering the final stage of labor so it can get a little...intense."

"Rach, she's already called me a fucking prick, like, a million times _and_ she told Mark to stick his camcorder up his ass, how much worse could it get?"

**10:01 P.M.**

"Okay, you were right."

**11:15 P.M.**

"Nine. I swear to God that I'm keeping it in my pants for the rest of my life."

"I don't even know what to say to that."

"Hold on. Mark's here."

"Sure."

"Uhhhmm, Rach. Quinn sent him out here to find out if I'm sexting, so I'd better head back in."

**12:41 A.M.**

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

"She's here..."

"Is everyone all right? Are you all right?"

"Yeah...Rach...I know it's the middle of the night and I feel like an ass for even asking this..."

"Noah?"

"Can you come out here?"

"Thirty minutes. I'll be in the waiting room when you're ready."

*****

She's there in twenty-five minutes. He meets her at the door.

They stand at the nursery window for a long time. Her bassinet is close, so Rachel can see her tiny face, snub nose, rosebud lips. The little hair she has sticks up, but it's light, like Quinn's. She's beautiful. He slips his hand into hers, and it's cool and remote, almost like holding hands with a statue.

"We should go," he says finally. "I'll come back tomorrow." He's still holding her hand, but so absently, she wonders if he's simply forgotten. He looks down at her, "You must be exhausted."

She shakes her head as they head down the hall. "Too much nervous energy," she admits. She pauses at a vending machine. "I'm hungry though."

He shakes his head at the machine. "Definitely a miss. IHOP's open 24 hours. Will your dads mind if you're out a little longer?"

Really? He honestly thinks her dads have _any_ idea where she is right now? She should go home immediately, sneak back in the window and hope for the best. Instead (and she isn't even a little bit surprised) she finds herself agreeing.

They decide to drive back separately to her house, drop off her car (quietly, she hopes) and then he'll drive them both to get food. He walks her to her car, finally surrendering her hand and as she turns her key in the ignition, she's actually relieved for the reprieve. She needs a few minutes alone to construct a defense mechanism, or rationalize, or just _stuff all those feelings back really, really deep down. _

She can deal with the physical attraction. She's a normal, healthy young woman and he's...well, let's just say that since she has a pulse, she's always recognized his attributes. Which doesn't exactly make her unique. Probably significantly more than 50% of the population of McKinley has had carnal thoughts about Puck. All she needs to do is take a few deep, cleansing breaths and remember to look away when he pulls off his sweatshirt and his t-shirt rides up. Right. She can handle Puck. Unfortunately, right now, it's Noah that seems to be the problem.

She thinks about Finn's recent glances and the way his hands are starting to linger on her waist when they practice. He smiles warmly at her and his eyes seem to be inviting all her old feelings to flood back. Of course eventually, inevitably, she'll smile back, allow her fingers to linger on his arm and they'll be what they would have been if there had been no Quinn, no baby.

Only she doesn't smile back right away. At first she thinks it's just that she feels uncomfortable with all the Gleeks watching avidly (except Noah who seems totally uninterested). Then she thinks it's because Finn can't help but telegraph his complacency, he's that sure of her (Noah raises an eyebrow). But why not? She spent all fall showing Finn how sure of her he could be. Shouldn't she accept what's being offered, what she's always wanted?

It has only very recently begun to occur to her (like in the last hour, or half-hour or maybe minute) that it might be because of Noah.

She's driving through the empty streets and all she knows for sure is that this is **not** the time or place (she will consider at a future date how likely such a time and place for them might be). Tonight is for what comfort and consolation is possible and right now being a friend isn't second best at all.

So when they sit side by side in the restaurant not eating the food in front of them and he asks her just to _talk_ and _talk_ and _talk,_ she does. And when he holds her hand under the table like a lifeline, she holds tight just for him.


	7. Excuses

**A/N: I don't own Glee (except on DVD--how many times can I watch mash-up before it becomes unhealthy?)**

****

He's waiting for her in the parking lot. No. Scratch that. They're all waiting for her in front of the bus in the pre-dawn chill. The Gleeks are shocked--they can't imagine Rachel being late for _anything_, much less her appointment with destiny, i.e. Regionals. Puck is less surprised. Michael is out of town and Ben isn't much of a morning person and since Rachel still doesn't have her keys back...shit...he knew he should have picked her up. Even if he's not very popular with Mr. and Mr. Berry right now.

Something to do with him sneaking their daughter back into her house at dawn. Breakfast that morning at the Berry household had been a bitch.

(Rachel, while your father and I can accept that your motivation was to help a friend...)

She assures them that he hadn't known she was out without permission until he was taking her home and they just stare at him. Rightly so. He should have known.

(There are reasons having to do with both safety and trust...)

Fuck. The trust card...he totally expects her to burst into tears and she does look sorry, but also around the corners of her mouth, the mulish look, barely visible. She still thinks she's done the right thing and now he thinks he's going to cry (or kiss her, which will kind of ruin the effect they are going for). This is _totally_ because of not enough sleep and dude, really a pretty rough night.

(Actions have consequences...)

The upshot is that she's grounded for a month. There's still school and Glee and she'd dug in her heels over their 'tutoring' sessions (hell, his grades are actually a lot better), so it's not like he never sees her. It's just always with lots of people around.

The thing is, he realizes as he leans up against the bus with his hands dug into his pockets against the cold, he kinda had plans for Berry this spring. Like baseball games (incredibly, a sport McKinley doesn't suck at and it would be nice for her to see him win at something for a change) and a concert with singers _under_ forty, and celebrating the return of the tiny, tiny skirts from winter storage _and maybe exploring the back of his truck_, and...oh, shut the fuck up, Puckerman.

Finally, she's here, mouth moving a thousand miles an hour and he just lets her go on as he shoves her bag into the rack and sinks into the seat next to hers. The bus is barely on the interstate before the Gleeks start in. He knows from the trip to Sectionals that they'll be singing. The entire way. Rachel, predictably, loudest of all.

Crap. At what exact point in time did he get to the place where this shit doesn't make him want to light himself on fire? But there is no fucking way he's singing.

She begs. He sings.

*****

Finn swept in like a knight on a white horse to be the hero of Sectionals. Which is pretty much the usual. Puck found his niche at McKinley being the asshole and he hasn't drifted much. So no one is more surprised than he is when he's the one who saves the day at Regionals. Even if no one knows it but Rachel.

*****

"Rach? Rachel? Berry! Look at me!" He tries to tug her from the wings to center stage, but she's pacing back and forth mumbling what seriously sounds like _profanities_ under her breath. Everyone else is in place, waiting for the curtain which is going up in about five minutes. They should both be onstage, now. But while everyone else had been warming up, running through their steps or just trying to get over the jitters of performing in front of the biggest crowd they'd even seen, he'd been watching her, had seen that Vocal Adrenaline dick pull her aside outside the girl's dressing room. He wasn't close enough to hear what the jackass has said, but he'd seen her face pale. Puck had frowned and taken a step towards the tenor, but he'd disappeared and now here she was, not only not in her happy space but about to have a coronary, minutes before fucking _Regionals_.

He needs to get her moving, so he shifts his hand from her arm to the small of her back, meaning to propel her to her mark by force if he has to, but his stupid hand has a mind of its own and keeps sliding south until he's cupping her ass. _Hey dickhead_, he thinks, _you're supposed to be getting her onstage, not molesting her_. But it is enough to get her to stop muttering and focus her eyes, wide with surprise, on him.

"What the hell Puck?" Quinn's sharp voice rings out from behind him and he guiltily whips his hand off Rachel's (perfect) bottom. He turns to Quinn; she looks all right for having popped out his kid four weeks ago (he feels the familiar tightening in his chest that he gets whenever he thinks about his daughter). He supposes he's glad to see Quinn back in time for Regionals. Glee wouldn't be the seriously dysfunctional (not to mention incestuous) little family that it is without her. Right now she's got that pissy look with the pursed lips she gets sometimes and she says, "Finn sent me to find out where _she_ was. I suppose I should have known..." here she trails off a little bit, looking at the tense expression on Rachel's face.

"Just a few last minute nerves," he scowls, "she'll be on in a minute." He hopes.

"She'd better be. We only have a minute," Quinn frowns, and heads back onstage.

He turns back to Rachel. "Come on. Out with it. What did Mr. Perfect Combination of Vocal Power and Artistry say to you?" Fuck, he hopes she isn't going to cry. It'll make her voice throbby and ruin her make-up. (Seriously? One night at Regionals as Hummel's roommate and this is what he gets? Fucking Glee.)

"He...he wished me luck. And then he gave me the number of a vocal coach they use for their background singers to help with my breath control!"

He laughs. "Shit, is that all?"

She hisses, "I'll have you know that my diaphragm work is excellent!"

"Sounds dirty." She just glares at him so he tries again. "Look, Rach, he's just trying to trash talk."

"What?" she snaps.

"He wants to mess with your head. I do it all the time in football. Of course, I usually tell the other players that I'm fucking their mothers, but whatever. The idea is the same."

She rolls her eyes at him, but he can see a little smile forming. "Do you think that's it?"

"Hell, yeah. You're going to knock it out of the park and everyone knows it."

The smile is back up to a thousand watts and her eyes are sparkling. She reaches up and before he knows what's happening she throws her arms around his neck and presses her her warm, soft lips to his and the world is lurching crazily off its axis, but then before he has a chance to think or react or _anything_ she pulls away. "Thank you, Noah," she says and sashays towards the stage. "Oh and by the way, do _try_ to keep your hands off my ass during the performance. "

Shit. That was...friendly. Yeah, moron, so why is your mouth still hanging open? He follows her onto the stage, grateful for the hours of practice that Schue insists on. _Focus, Puckerman. Now sing..._

It's getting both easier and harder to be around her. Easier: while you could never call her restful, somehow when he's with her, all his turmoil subsides to almost manageable levels. And when he just wants the entire world to fuck off (only he doesn't) she's there. Harder because he knows why she's there. At some point along the way she's figured out his bullshit and it fucking terrifies him. Also harder because he doesn't know how he's going to continue to keep his hands off her. Obviously the parts of him that aren't well controlled by his brain (which covers a lot of territory) are starting to take over. And he's sort of forgetting why not touching her is apparently so important.

Oh, right. Because everything he touches turns to shit. And friends don't fuck (in theory). Or all that could just be a lame-ass excuse for avoiding the true reason: backstage kisses aside, at the end of the day Rachel Berry probably, almost-certainly wants Finn. (Remember, that's why she had dumped his ass in the first place.)

On stage, her last note flies out into the darkened theater and then dies away and the audience is on their feet cheering and they're hers--the audience and probably the judges and even the rest of the Gleeks for the moment. In the final echoes of the chorus, he's angled his body slightly towards her, (he always does; it's like she's his true north) so he can see her face surrounded by the dark cloud of hair, her eyes glowing. Those eyes find his and she looks so happy that he can't help it, he winks and she laughs. The curtain drops and he's moving towards her reflexively and then it hits him, but fuck it...he's just done with _doubts_ and _reasons why not_ and _shit_. He just wants what he wants. Wants to make her want it too.

And of course, the universe hates him, so Finn is in there before him and he's actually sweeping her into his arms and bending her backwards into a kiss that Puck knows he must have been practicing for weeks. Probably with pillows. Rachel is gripping Finn's arms tightly. He hopes it's because she'd fall on her ass otherwise, but he kind of doubts it. He can't look for another second, so he looks at the rest of them and for the most part it's _awwwww_, and _it's about time_. Kurt is looking on with resignation, Quinn's look of sick horror is easy to identify; he's pretty sure it matches his own. Artie is looking at him. Puck quickly wipes his face blank and Artie just shrugs.

Whatever. Anyway, he has someplace to be. So he's out.

That place turns out to be finding the Vocal Adrenaline dick and letting him know that Puck is fucking him mom. Enjoy your performance, asshole. (There's a reason why it's a classic.)

He's considering his next move and fighting, alcohol or recreational drugs are all looking like good options (is there a way he can combine all three?) when Quinn finds him heading out the theater doors. She drags him to a bench and starts in. "Jesus Christ, Puck! What the hell are we going to do about this?"

Puck raises an eyebrow. Go Quinn. Apparently there's nothing like fornication and an out-of-wedlock pregnancy to loosen a girl up. "There is no 'we' on this, babe," he says coolly. But he doesn't bother to pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about. They may not like each other very much, but they're veterans of the same war.

She glares. "I thought you had this covered!"

"Covered how, Q?"

"Oh please! You might have everyone else fooled with this 'just friends' garbage, but not me. What the hell have you been doing with your time? Where's your game?"

He just presses his lips together and glares right back.

Her eyes narrow and she gets up into his face. "I can't believe it. You're serious about her." She throws her arms up into the air. "What the hell is it about Rachel Berry?"

He shrugs, leans forward. "We're done here." He looks at her--she's holding herself upright, but she looks lost. He's seen Quinn demanding, and Quinn furious and even Quinn bitter but shit, now she looks about seven and he'd pity her if this wasn't the way the world worked.

"Do you ever think they'd be better off without us?" she asks quietly.

He stands, heads towards the door again. He's got five hours until he has to get back on that bus (with Rachel and Finn). Plenty of time. "I never think about it at all," he lies.


	8. Plans Change

**A/N: Happy New Year to you all and thanks to everyone for reviewing--so many of you were worried about Puck, but I kept him more or less in one piece!**

*****

Her game plan (she thinks he'd like the sports lingo) is to let things develop naturally. After all, crazy and obsessive behavior hadn't gotten her anywhere with Finn. So on the surface, very little changes. And that's the problem. Unfortunately, the new and improved, relaxed, take things as they come Rachel isn't making any progress in _'Operation: Help Noah Develop and Hopefully Express Romantic Feelings For Rachel Berry'_. (Yes, she recognizes that using a code name for this plan may be letting a little crazy back in.)

It's Mr. Schue who makes her rethink her strategy. "Sing it your way," he tells her, when she's fretting over which interpretation of a Broadway classic to adopt. "Put more Rachel in it." Was this what he had in mind? She doubts it. But what it says to her is that she needs to play to her strengths.

Truth be told, she is demanding and sometimes a little abrasive and she does want _everything_ too much. However, Noah already knows this about her and he hasn't run away screaming yet. If she's going to get what she wants (him) a more direct method is indicated. So when the opportunity presents itself, she kisses him. And it works, she thinks, because she can feel his eyes following her like the start of something new.

She's a little swept up in the moment, she admits that. The performance, the applause, the feeling of belonging and most of all Noah. His hands, their mouths, his gaze. She catches his eye (she always tries to) and when she does, happiness and excitement rise up like heat spreading through her body. It feels like singing.

And then, Finn's kiss is a surprise. Only not--she's just been forgetting or ignoring the fact that things have been building that way for a while. It's beyond her limited social abilities to explain to a boy who isn't kissing her that he shouldn't. And it's _nice_ which is an unfortunate adjective in and of itself. And she doesn't want to hurt him (or get dropped which could cause serious injuries). But it must be pretty obvious because when he pulls her back upright and steadies her with his hands on her shoulders, he's shaking his head and she lets her look be a confirmation. She slips out of Finn's grasp, turns and searches the stage, but he's gone and she's at a standstill.

"Puck?" Finn asks quietly.

"Yes." And it's true, but not the whole truth. "It's us too, though." Her eyes narrow as she notices her hovering teammates. Only a few of them have the decency to pretend they aren't listening. She pulls him backstage and sits down on a props trunk, smoothing her dress nervously. He sits beside her, his eyes downcast and all of a sudden it doesn't matter--all the times he let her down are perfectly balanced by all the times he lifted her up.

"Finn, do you remember our first kiss?"

He flushes, so she supposes he does. She laughs and turns pink as well. "God, I had such a crush on you."

"I liked you too, you know."

She nods. "You did. And we had this moment together before...before everything else happened, when you could have chosen me and you didn't. The truth is that you loved Quinn." She sees him flinch and privately suspects he still does.

"Is that what it is with you and Puck?" he asks, a hint of hurt or jealousy or something overshadowed by curiosity.

She shrugs, looking down at her fingers twisted in her lap. "I don't know. I hope so."

He sighs, leans back. "For what it's worth, you two sorta make sense together."

*****

She finally finds him sleeping it off in the back the bus. Her lips press together as she itemizes: reeking of alcohol, a split lip, a bruise on the cheekbone. She thinks he needs to learn to duck a punch. He's half on, half off the seat and she nudges him with her foot. Not very gently. His eyes flutter open and he meets her eyes for an instant and then he's focusing somewhere over her shoulder. "Sup Berry?" he asks finally.

"What are you doing, Noah?" She struggles to keep her voice even. Maybe kicking him again would help.

His eyes drift closed. "Just celebrating, Berry, just celebrating."

She's still standing in the aisle, trying to force her brain to work. At the moment, she can only come up with two possible explanations for his behavior. One (_her kiss_) makes her want to slap him, and then crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head until after high school graduation. The other (_Finn's kiss_) makes her want to do a little victory dance and then slap him because, honestly, he's the one with the _experience_. Can't he just _tell_? (And also, the disappearing act is pissing her off.)

"Don't you have some stupid love song to practice? Somewhere else, maybe?" His tone tells her that he's uninterested one way or the other, but she sees him flick a glance at her and then look down. This is clearly her cue to storm out. Only, she's pretty sure that's the reaction he's pushing for. However he may be trying to play it, he's certainly not indifferent. _Interesting. S_he nudges him again. "Move over."

He grunts, but half picks himself up, moves to the window, leaning against the glass, so she can only see his face in profile as she slides into the seat next to him. His eyes are still closed.

"Celebrating, huh? Celebrating what exactly? You missed Vocal Adrenaline's lead blowing the high B. A note that he's probably never missed in his life. Would you know anything about that?"

"He's a dickhead," Noah says flatly, without moving.

"So that's a yes," she says, hiding a smile. "You missed the award ceremony--we won by the way."

No response. "You know, we've done this before," she says. She reaches out a hand, touches his split lip gently. He winces, but doesn't move. "But I'm fresh out of ice-packs."

Still nothing. She's feeling daring, wants to provoke some kind of reaction. She lets her fingers trace his jawline, sees his tiny inhalation only because she's looking for it. Her fingers move to his neck, slide to his collarbone and then the hitch in his breath matches her own. "Sometimes you're kind of an idiot, Noah Puckerman," she says conversationally.

That does it. His eyes fly open again and he's glaring at her (classic default Puck, she knows) which is fine because she's got plenty more to say.

Suddenly Kurt is in the aisle. "You!" he screeches, throwing a duffle bag at Puck's chest.

"What the fuck, Hummel?" he growls.

"I had to pack for you! God only knows where those boxers have been." Kurt shudders and then looks at Puck more closely, his mouth gaping open.

"Shut up, Hummel. You know you loved it. Now hit the mute, I need some sleep." With that, he pulls the bag under his head and turns away from the two of them.

Kurt turns to her. "Is that your doing?" he asks, almost respectfully.

_Possibly indirectly._ "No." She slides out of the seat, brushing past Kurt. There are some performances that work best without an audience.

The rest of the Gleeks are loading on the bus, most glancing curiously towards the back. She catches Finn's eye, gives him a tiny smile and a nod as he chooses a seat behind Quinn. Biting her lip, Rachel retreats to the seat she had occupied on the ride up. She settles her possessions carefully on the seat next to her, reapplies chapstick, fusses as she rearranges the items in her handbag and thinks her about next step. There's always a next step; it's a manifestation of her determination to reach her goals. Or just her crazy. Whatever works.

*****

The next evening as she drives to the party, Rachel is seriously irritated. She arose early, opened a fresh notebook, sharpened all her pencils (also watched Singin' in the Rain twice for inspiration) and this is _all_ her considerable ingenuity can come up with? Hours of planning and she hasn't progressed past find him, drag him off into a corner somewhere...and then what? Offer an explanation for a kiss she didn't initiate (had he even cared)? Demand an explanation for whatever trouble he had gotten himself into (is she overstepping her boundaries)? Fling herself into his arms (does the extreme appeal of this course of action outweigh the enormous potential for humiliation)?

And now, standing just inside Brittany's door, she's not even sure she'll be able to carry out the first item on her agenda. The Gleek victory party had somehow transformed into a school-wide event and listening to the heavy beat of the music and the hum of conversation, she thinks she'll be lucky to even find him. Perhaps another time would be better.

Before she can gracefully carry out a strategic retreat (turn tail and run), Brittany appears and hugs her. It's a little uncomfortable because Brittany is holding a plastic cup in one hand and a video game controller in the other. "Rachel!" she says brightly, "here, take this." She holds out both her hands. After consideration, Rachel chooses the controller and Brittany drags her through the living room, ringed with a crowd of Cheerios and jocks (but no Noah) and drops her off in the den with Mike and Matt, who of all things are about to play _Need for Speed_ on X-Box. Her stomach unknots a little bit because they seem so genuinely happy to see her (and the game controller of course). They offer her a go, laughingly.

Twenty minutes later, they aren't laughing, but staring at her in shock. "Holy shit, Rachel!" Mike whispers. Matt just nods. Rachel giggles.

"And that gentlemen, is the sound of your asses being handed to you." From her position on the floor, she whips around and it's _Noah,_ standing behind them. "Hey, Rach," he says and her throat tightens because she had wondered if Regionals had flung them back to Berry and Puck for good.

"Are you done tormenting them?" he continues. His voice is the familiar rumble with a hint of teasing--the same voice that argues with her over song selection, the five foods groups, how to fold laundry, _everything_. His mouth is set in a familiar smirk, in sharp contrast, his dark eyes are serious.

"Oh, I think so," she says, controlling her breathing with an effort.

"Come on," he says, reaching out a hand to pull her to her feet.

She doesn't ask, doesn't hesitate, just puts her hand in his.


	9. Necessary

**A/N: Last chapter! I so hope you enjoy the payoff for the mild angst and cliffhanger I put you through.** **Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing. You are all amazing and wonderful and so appreciated! **

**Also, because it is my inspiration for this story and you can't have too much of that, a repeat of the stanza I borrowed from Margaret Atwood:**

_I would like to be the air  
that inhabits you for a moment  
only. I would like to be that unnoticed  
& that necessary._

**From_ Variations on the Word Sleep_**, by Margaret Atwood

*****

"Puck, wait." He hears Quinn's voice, but he's already long, long gone, fracturing, spinning out in a thousand directions.

_**"Wanna make out?"**_

_**And it's so unexpectedly, insanely hot. Technically, he'd known the skirt was short, but the way it rode up? And she's so in the moment and so enthusiastic that he finds himself smiling. A real smile.**_

He walks out of the theater with his head down, moving fast, but with no destination in mind. Just one foot in front of the other. People move out of his way.

_**"I was going to break up with you anyway."**_

_**"No you weren't"**_

_**The fucking disappointment doesn't even hit until he's walking away.**_

It's a while later--he's not sure how long because his phone is dead. He finds himself back at the hotel and for a few minutes he thinks about just going into his room and sleeping for a while because all the other choices feel like shit. Instead he looks up at the windows and tries to figure out which one is hers.

_**Finn is hitting him and hitting him and he tastes blood which always makes him lose it a little bit, so he says some shit and the next thing he knows he's alone again. Until she shows up.**_

He's still on the street corner when the Vocal Adrenaline dick shows up with a few of his friends. He looks fucking irate and suddenly the afternoon is looking up. Three of them go for him and Puck grins.

_**He's in the parking lot, arguing with himself because Berry's a big girl. And it's nothing new--they're always circling her, looking for weakness. And it's only a damn song. His feet move him back to the practice room before he's knows what he's done.**_

There's going to be some hurt on the Carmel bus tonight he thinks with satisfaction. But shit, the adrenaline's wearing off and his face fucking kills.

_**Sitting in the diner with Berry after that first horrifying driving lesson, he wonders if she notices that their knees are touching under the table.**_

He circles around the hotel to the service entrance, where the kitchen guys are sitting around on milk crates smoking before the dinner rush starts. They look wary, what with the blood and all, but relax when he offers them forty bucks to score him a bottle.

_**He smiles at Hudson as they express their disapproval on the stalker's face. He wants the message to be clear: no-one had better fuck with Rachel.**_

It stings his lip like hell going down, but he welcomes the eventual numbness.

_**They're in the library and he's pulled his plastic chair close enough so that their elbows brush. Finally, he sighs. "These two. Mark and Sarah. Her parents." She's quiet, just leans into him a little.**_

He opens his eyes to find her in front of him, and it's self-preservation not to look at her because it hurts, but then her touch is so gentle. Before he can put any of the pieces together she's gone. _Sleep. Just_ _sleep._

_**He holds his baby three times that night. And even when he's not he can feel the warmth and weight of her. He pulls out his phone again because Rachel is the only one who thinks he can do this.**_

The sound of the bus pulling into the McKinley parking lot wakes him up. He looks at her under his lashes. The back of her dark head barely peeks up over the seat four rows ahead. He straightens a little bit, ignoring the knives stabbing behind his eyes. Hudson is near the front, leaning over Quinn's seat. What the fuck?

_**She throws her arms around his neck and presses her warm, soft lips to his and the world is lurching crazily off its axis...**_

And he's a fucking moron, because Rachel's never lied to him and that kiss wasn't a lie either.

*****

Mike drives him home. Apparently, Rachel had asked him to.

He wakes up the next afternoon aching all over and with a bag of thawed peas on his face. And he feels fucking fantastic. It's irrational and a little bit frightening. Not only is enthusiasm deeply uncool, but it's also dangerous. He's not stupid enough to tempt fate by calling her but he thinks about it. A lot. His sister is looking at him funny, so he steals the sandwiches off her plate and eats them while she screams. Badassness reasserted, he screws around for the rest of the day, unable to settle down to anything for more than ten minutes.

It's that restlessness that sends him to Brittany's party early, where he tries to pretend that he's not waiting around like a douche. He hears her before he sees her and finds her the way he likes her best, totally engrossed in something, excitement radiating from her. He hasn't really thought anything through, just holds out his hand and hopes. She puts her hand in his and the irrational happiness comes surging back and he pulls her out the back door.

It's a warm night and a few people are hanging out the deck. Puck doesn't even know if they're Gleeks or jocks or Cheerios, or whoever because he's so focused on the feeling of her fingers intertwined in his. They move further into the garden until they're beyond the glow of the lights stretching out onto the grass and the music is reduced to a pulse. There's a bench back here. (Brittany likes to have parties and honestly, Puck's been everywhere once or twice.)

He sits, pulls her down next to him and he begins to worry; he can see her outline, but not the expression in her eyes. Maybe she's feeling the same way because she reaches out the hand that isn't holding his and brings it up to his face, ghosting along his bruised cheekbone. And although he wouldn't admit it under torture, it feels so sweet that it pretty much breaks him.

His hand moves to the nape of her neck and then into her hair and his mouth closes the distance between the two of them. There's a rush of heat and softness and strawberry lipgloss and then he runs his tongue gently against her bottom lip. Her lips part and her tongue darts out in return and it's just like he remembered, only better, because he's been waiting for days and weeks and months for this.

Now that they are finally here, he's in no hurry as he leisurely explores her mouth. He lays a trail of kisses along her jawline, smiling at her quickening breath, nuzzling behind her ear, gently biting her earlobe. And then it's his turn to gasp as her nails delicately dig into his upper thigh and she brings her lips to his again, pressing against him.

He kind of loses track of things for a while.

Finally oxygen depletion sets in and slowly, reluctantly, he pulls back, only to lean into her so they are almost nose to nose.

"Hey," he says.

"Hello yourself."

And she's so close and she smells so good that his brain short circuits and he just says the first thing he can think of. "Finn's not the guy for you."

She blinks up at him. "Do you have a concussion?" she asks. She reaches up and turns his face to the side, looking at his bruises. "Are you experiencing blurred vision, dizziness, nausea, mood swings or personality changes?" Then frowning, "actually, don't answer that last one."

He scoffs. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well it seemed like a reasonable question. Obviously Finn is not the man for me. I would hardly be here kissing you if he was."

_Don't say it. Don't say it._ "That's not what it looked like yesterday." _Crap._

Her entire body tenses up. She pulls away and hisses at him, "That was Finn kissing me! There's a difference you lout!"

And that tiny fear he wasn't acknowledging dissolves. He moves to bring her back where she should be--tightly pressed against his body--but she's retreated back another foot.

"Is that what this is about? Some odd game of one-upmanship with Finn?"

"What? No!"

"Then what is it?" she asks, exasperation evident in her voice.

"Well, we're friends, Rach...," he starts.

"I see. Friends with benefits, I suppose," she snaps.

God she looks pissed. And beautiful. And totally hot in the best possible way. But give him a fucking break, was she deliberately misunderstanding him? _No asshole, you're just shit at communication._

She's up and two steps away and he lunges after her and grabs her wrist, a little frustrated.

"All right. Fine. Friends with benefits! And I plan benefiting the hell out of you whenever I get the chance," he grinds out between gritted teeth. _Seriously dude, are you going anywhere with this?_ Softer: "And you'd better not be benefiting anyone else, 'cause I won't be either."

He slides his grip to her hand, palm to palm, and covers it with his other. "And when we're not doing that, we're going to hang out, and you're going to force me to listen to musicals and I'm going to bore you to tears explaining the designated hitter rule. And we're going to go to the movies if we can find one that you want to watch that doesn't make my dick fall off."

Her mouth is open and she's looking a little starry-eyes and he feels kind of proud because anything that can reduce Rachel to happy silence is probably good stuff. He tugs her a little closer and continues. "We're going to the diner because our waitress was fucking pissed at me when I told her you were grounded. Damn, my eggs were fucking cold! And lunch at school is fine, but it would be better if you were sitting closer, like on my knee. Although we can skip lunch sometimes too, because we're going to be busy making out. Did I tell you there was going to be kissing? Well, there is. A lot of it. At your locker. Before Glee practice. After Glee practice. In my truck..."

And then, thank God, because that's already more words in a row than he's ever used in his life, she shuts him up with her mouth. His hands slide down her back to cup her ass, which is even more awesome now that he doesn't have to feel guilty about it. Without thinking about it, he lifts her and she wraps her legs around him and _now_ he's thinking--thinking about finding somewhere, anywhere, a little more private because after that speech, there is no way that she isn't going to let him touch her boobs. (He is _so_ the man.)

She pulls back a little bit and says breathlessly, "Noah, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

He sets her down on her feet and her eyes are shining up at him as he cups her face in his hands. "Hell yeah, Rachel. Come on babe, someone's going to have to be smart about feelings and shit in this relationship and I sure as hell hope you don't think it's going to be me."

She laughs as he drags her off to his truck.

*****

_END_


	10. New Directions

**AN: So, I was really, really sure that I was done with this story, but a few people asked me to consider an epilogue from Rachel's point of view. And I thought about it, wrote** **a few lines, went and wrote another story, wrote a few more lines, started yet another story, and finally really started feeling this one. I hope you like it as much as I do. **

**That said, this is dedicated to Metaphor who said an epilogue would be nice and NerdyArtsyUnderdog who asked for it twice.**

**I don't own Glee (or the world) but if I did, it would be April and Puck would be making me smile.**

*****

As he pulls her half-gently across the lawn to his truck, all she can think of is a single moment from her childhood. She's five, happy, fearless, and no one has ever told her that she's too weird, or too noisy or just too much. At the playground she doesn't walk, she bounces from the slide to the climbing structure and back again. "Higher!" she calls to daddy as he pushes her on the swings. At the top of the arc, she leaps, squealing at the sensation of rushing air, then the sickening drop before landing safely in dad's arms.

This is like that.

Everything has been planned for her since she was a little girl--mostly with her enthusiastic participation. Elocution lessons, dance recitals, extra-credit assignments all leading gracefully and inevitably to a foregone conclusion somewhere in the distant future. It's safe to say she's always been all about the steps and the hows and the means to the end. And here she is, possibly at that end (or beginning).

She's spent the day with her pencils and charts, or maybe the weeks since the hospital parking lot, or even the months since he pushed a slushie in her hand and told her it was grape, thinking about getting to this point. Now that their fingers are tangled together and she's walking with him through the almost-summer night air, she's only just realizing she has no idea what comes next. The twist of worry in the pit of her stomach doesn't surprise her, because she and Noah are _surely_ about as far from a sure thing as it is possible to be. What shocks the hell out of her is how exhilarating it is to have no expectations nipping at her heels, no set agenda for this.

It's too much to contain, so she doesn't even try. They're on the sidewalk, almost to his truck and he's still a step ahead as she stops and tugs him back to her. She reaches up and draws a line of kisses along his jawline, hands fluttering a little shyly, skimming the waistband of his jeans before settling at his sides. She can feel his lips curve up into a smile against her skin and she smiles a little in return, as she moves to cover his mouth with her own.

After a time, he pulls back a fraction of an inch. "C'mon baby," he murmurs along the shell of her ear so softly she almost feels it instead of hears it. And she doesn't know where they're going or what they are going to be doing (although, honestly she has some ideas, as well as a few things she'd like to try), but for right now, that feels perfect.

*****

Of course it's not some kind of fairytale ending, or beginning--not even the like the slightly frightening Brothers Grimm ones or even the Perrault versions daddy had insisted on translating from the original French.

Because they fight a fair amount. Over her desire to help everyone actualize themselves as performers in time for Nationals. (_Rachel, you are driving everyone fucking crazy and we are not giving up dairy products for the duration_.) Over his complete inability to keep his hand off her ass in any situation whatsoever. (_Really Noah? At temple? Rabbi Wiseman didn't know where to look!_) Over her wardrobe choices because there seems to be some sort of inverse relationship at work: the more he sees of her body, the less he wants anyone else to see it. (_Rach, you're smokin' but_ _I can't believe your fathers let you out of the house like that!)_ Over his desire to kill anyone who looks sideways at her. (_Actually Noah, I don't think he was going to slushie me, I think he was simply checking out my legs. **Fuck! I should have hit him harder!**_)

And with the exception of his mother (who beams and digs out the baby pictures) and her fathers (who have taken to clapping him heartily on the back and calling him 'son') no one thinks they are going to last. Two weeks in, Rachel and Puck walk into Glee (regrettably, it must be admitted both late and slightly disheveled), only to find a spirited betting pool set up predicting the date of their break-up. When Kurt asks Mr. Schue if he wants in on the action he actually looks interested until Rachel's glare recalls him to his duties.

Also, the waters of their sexual relationship are complicated to navigate at first. Rachel tells him flatly that she's not ready for intercourse and other than wincing slightly at her choice of vocabulary, he's neither surprised nor unduly dismayed by that. And it turns out that there are so many other interesting and satisfying things that they can do and further, that she's really good at them.

Curiously, by the time she informs him that she's ready (and safe), he's decided that his truck is not an appropriate venue for her to lose her virginity. But Rachel's always been a problem solver and with the appropriate motivation, it turns out that Puck is as well. So the last week before school begins again they go to the reservoir for a picnic and he plays 'Sweet Caroline' on his guitar for her and she feeds him strawberries and frozen grapes and they watch the sun set together. She pulls out some candles (flameless--she's not going to be responsible for a potential forest fire). He shakes out a blanket and in a surprise move, sprinkles on some rose petals (smiling inwardly, she recognizes her neighbor's beloved Gallicas).

And truthfully? Truthfully at first it's a little awkward and uncomfortable, but he's gentle and makes sure she enjoys it. That, put together with his intense focus and the gratifying noises he makes? Unexpectedly (because she's done the research and wants to regard it from a practical standpoint) it's sort of wonderful. And the second time is even better.

She decides that it's a metaphor for their relationship.

When she used to think about it, in the moments between closing her eyes and sleep, or after she finished her homework, or sometimes even drifting off a little during Mercedes' solos, she never really succeeded in picturing them together as a couple. Even now, they may not look very likely. But for every fight and every doubt two things stand out. Firstly: he has never expected her to dim herself one iota. And secondly, she loves him right back.


End file.
